


Sucks

by dharma_club



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Mitch Marner hurt his ankle tonight, and these are my feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-26 17:37:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,186
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21377947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dharma_club/pseuds/dharma_club
Summary: “What’s wrong?” Dylan asks.“I’m not gonna travel with the team tomorrow.” Mitch says and Dylan can’t really tell if he’s trying to keep his tone emotionless to spare Dylan or if he’s just numb.
Relationships: Mitch Marner/Dylan Strome
Comments: 1
Kudos: 83





	Sucks

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Mitch. 
> 
> I wrote this right after the Flyers<>Leafs game, so who knows how bad Mitch's injury is, but my 2015 OPT is not getting together. :(

_call me when you can_  
Dylan frowns, staring at his phone screen when he sees the new text from Mitch. 

They never text in the middle of a game, especially not when both of them are playing. But they are supposed to see each other tomorrow and that in itself is enough to disrupt the carefully constructed routine that is this long distance relationship.

Dylan knows the Leafs are flying out early tomorrow, and then they play each other, and after that they have all of Monday for themselves, both of them free of practices and team obligations. It’s Mitch and Dylan day, and they didn’t have one of those since the summer. Dylan has made plans, serious grown up plans that include more than just sucking bruises on every available stretch of skin on Mitch’s body. Though, if he’s honest, he maybe has that type of plans too. 

A locker room full of annoyed guys after an OT loss and just before they need to get on a plane is not the best place to call his boyfriend, so he sends a quick _Call you in 10_ 😘 😘 and goes to shower.

He’s quick about it and he ends up being one of the first guys on the bus, and he takes advantage of the relative quiet to call Mitch.

“Hey, babe.” He says the moment the line connects, smiling. 

“Uhm.” Mitch says on the other end, quiet and tense, and Dylan’s heart rate immediately picks up.

“What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I’m not gonna travel with the team tomorrow.” Mitch says and Dylan can’t really tell if he’s trying to keep his tone emotionless to spare Dylan or if he’s just numb. 

“What happened?” he asks. 

“It’s not a big deal.” Mitch says, and Dylan can hear the lie in the way Mitch’s voice is a little too quiet, a little too flat. 

“Is that Marns?” Brinksy laughs, plopping next to Dylan. “Tell him he’s not allowed to distract you with sex until after we crush them.” 

Dylan shakes his head and waves him to shut up, Brinksy frowning at him. Dylan doesn’t know what to say, he doesn’t know what’s up himself. Mitch sniffles on the other side of the line after the long quiet pause.

“Babe?” Dylan asks again. “Just tell me what’s wrong.”

“I fell weird. It’s not a big deal, I just fell wrong,” Mitch says. “And I hurt my ankle.”

Dylan can feel it like a chill on his skin, unpleasant and odd. He doesn’t know what hurt mean, ankle injuries suck, and they take a long time to heal. “How bad is it?” 

“Not bad. I don’t know, I think it’s fine, but they didn’t want me to skate on it.” Mitch says, and Dylan can hear the frustration creep into his voice. “And they want me to do an MRI tomorrow.” 

“Okay.” Dylan nods, thinking. He wants to say something kind, encouraging, but he’s not sure what will make Mitch feel better. Above all, he wants to be able to hug him, wrap him in his arms and make it better. But that’s not possible. 

“I’m sorry.” Mitch says suddenly, and Dylan doesn’t know what he’s even apologizing for.

“What—” 

“We were gonna spend some time together and I went and ruined that.”

“No, Mitch, no. Don’t. That’s—“ Stupid, but he doesn’t want to say that now. “It’s not as important right now. Just take care of yourself, get better.”

“I fucked up, Dyl.” Mitch whispers into the phone. 

Dylan doesn’t want to get upset with Mitch, but he’s worried and shaken and he can’t stand Mitch feeling like this. “You didn’t, you’re fine.” 

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.” Mitch repeats and Dylan feels so fucking helpless. 

“Where are you?” He asks.

“Still at the rink,” Mitch says, and that’s good. “They wanted me to wait here a few hours so they can look and see if it swells.” 

“Is JT still there?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen the team since the game ended.” Mitch confesses. 

“Text him.” Dylan says, not even thinking twice. 

“I don’t—“ Mitch starts and Dylan immediately cuts him off. 

“Text him or I will.” 

Mitch has a tendency to internalize whatever he’s feeling when ever shit gets hard. Dylan can’t be there in person, but like hell if he’s gonna sit aside while Mitch isolates himself from his teammates. 

“Fine. fine. I’ll text him.” Mitch promises. 

“Babe.” Dylan starts, and he isn’t even sure what he can say now. 

“I know, Dyl. I’m sorry.” Mitch sighs.

Dylan just shakes his head, he knows Mitch can’t see him, but he can’t stop himself. “I wish I was there.”

Mitch makes a weird sound. “I do too.”

“I’m sorry I can’t.” Dylan says again. 

They’re quiet for a while, and Dylan can see the guys starting to fill the bus, it’s going to be too loud to continue the call soon. He shuts his eyes. He doesn’t want to end this call, doesn’t want to leave Mitch alone and hurt in some room in Toronto right now. 

“What if it’s really bad?” Mitch asks, quiet and voice shaking. “What if they tell me it’s months.” 

“Babe,” Dylan says, carefully. There’s not much he can say. He doesn’t want to lie, doesn’t want to promise things he can’t control, and some fucked up things can happen in hockey. “You’re going to be okay.”

“Okay.” Mitch says, and Dylan can hear him breathing in.

“I love you,” Dylan says. They don’t usually say it out loud, but it feels like Mitch needs a reminder, and it makes Dylan feel better saying it outloud.

“Yeah, I love you too,” Mitch says, and then laughs bitterly. “I was really waiting to see you.” 

“It doesn’t matter now,” Dylan promises. “Just get better.”

“Okay.”

“And text JT.” Dylan reminds him and Mitch huffs.

“Okay, bye.”

“Bye. Call me tomorrow morning.” Dylan says in a rush. 

“Okay.”

Dylan opens his eyes and ends the call, quickly googling Leafs highlights and Mitch’s name.

Alex is still frowning at him. “Mitch okay?” He asks carefully. 

“Dunno.” Dylan says, biting his lip. He finds a gif of Mitch falling pretty quickly, he never thought he’d be so grateful for Leafs fans being pedantic on Twitter, but here they are. He stares at the gif, again and again, twists his phone so Brinksy can watch as well.

“Ouch.” Bringsy says. “Looks off.”

“Yeah,” Dylan sighs. “He’s getting an MRI tomorrow.”

“That’s good.” Brinksy nods and leans against Dylan.

Dylan lets him, accepting the comfort for what it is. He’s worries about Mitch, but there’s nothing he can do tonight, not for his own anxiety or to make it better for Mitch.

It’s horrible and kind of impossible. Dylan thinks he should be with Mitch. But it’s not like he can be helpful right now, and he does have a game to play, a job to do. Maybe he should book a flight to Toronto for Monday morning. 

_Love you_  
He sends to Mitch just before he gets on the plane. 

💖 _safe flight_  
Mitch sends back.


End file.
